Who the hell are you
To come back into my life like that?
How dare you tell me untruths and things you like to say
To make yourself feel better?
Have you ever thought how you made me feel? Huh?
You and your friends?
You told me to forget about it, to move on,
Since it's been more than a year since we last met.
Who the hell are you
To tell me what I should do, how I should feel?
I spent three years with you in that damned place.
Three years, you bastard!
Three years I spent hurting inside, tending to myself
While your friends pushed me away and...
And where were you?
Hiding away, that's what.
That helping hand you gave to others was strangely absent for me.
And you bring those years up
In your pitiful attempt to make some connection with me?
Did you even know what I felt then, you stupid fuck?
I wish you knew this.
I wish I could make you feel what those three years did to me.
I wish I can shove all my black, boiling sulphuric bile down your throat
And make you pay for all the times you feigned ignorance.
You knew all along but you did nothing. Nothing!
But in truth, I'll never say this to your face.
I'm not truthful enough to land a good punch on your face.
And so I must content my vengeful yearning
With this impotent rage I keep to myself.
This is for that person I met in my office whom I didn't want to see again. I knew him from my college days and he was a goddamn coward. Shame I never told it to his face then. You know who you are. I hope you can live with your choices.
YOU ARE READING
Split Sides
PoetryPoetry, prose, and more from the fountain of thought. Cover made by the wonderful @-fedorable. Best Rankings: #3 Essay #3 Monologue #4 Draft #1 Poetry